Dark Dreams of Family
by LeDiz
Summary: Gibbs' mind is a dark place, even when having good dreams. A mildly stream of consciousness look at Gibbs and the family he's made for himself.


**DISCLAIMER: **Uhh… stream of consciousness. Written… oh, I don't know how long ago. Mid-season four, I think. Probably set around then, too, but I don't know for certain. Posted mainly because I'm getting sick of all the fics in my in-progress folder. I have no real excuse.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Dark Dreams of Family**_

It's almost seven.

Abby is sitting with Tony at the table. He has paper, folders, files, pens and highlighters spread across the wood and his head in his hands, but Abby keeps pushing him.

"I can't do it, Abs. I just – there's so many numbers and variables and it all looks so stupid now I'm looking back on it," he insists. "I could have done it all so much better. And I keep thinking about that and the sentences get all screwed up and –"

You cuff him over the back of the head, accomplishing two goals in one action. Not only does it shut him up, but it reminds him that you're there. You believe he can do this. It's the only support you'll allow yourself. "Excuses don't get the job done."

"I had it done before!" he cries, and you turn away to hide your smile. "You said it wasn't good enough!"

"Tony, you know he just wants the best from you," Abby points out. "You can be so good at this, you just don't let yourself try!"

You open the refrigerator and take out the marinade Shannon left there earlier. She has to work nights, leaving you alone with the terror that is the-night-before-Tony's-report-is-due, but you work weekends, so you can't really begrudge her that. You know her memory better than the touch of her skin, but you still love her and she still loves you, and that's enough.

You chop vegetables and fry meat while Abby gently coaxes Tony through the work, and you snap at him whenever she seems to be losing him. Every time you speak, his shoulders jerk back and he scribbles a little faster, but Abby smiles at you silently; knowingly. The best way to get Tony at his best is to expect more than is humanly possible. After it's all over, you'll let Shannon make a big deal of his A-minus, and maybe let your hand stay in his hair rather than slap over his skull. Then you'll demand to know why the hell he didn't get an A-plus. Jen always says you treat him badly, and that he'll get a complex over how you treat the girls, but you know he can take it.

The screen door bangs open, quickly followed by a yelped apology, and both you and Abby smile. Tony stays bent over his report as Tim stumbles in, still apologising for hurting the door.

"I didn't mean to open it so hard, only I wanted to make sure you knew I was coming in, so –"

"McGee!" Tony snaps, glancing up from under his eyebrows. "Shut up!"

"Right. Sorry, Tony." Tim is a geek; you know that not only because his nickname is 'McGeek', but because for the first few times that they mentioned him, everybody referenced him as such. But Tony likes Tim for a variety of reasons (not the least of which is that he puts up with a lot), and so lets him hang around. You don't mind – you think the kid's nice enough, and he's smart as hell. You hope that having him around will make Tony see it's okay to be intelligent, but it doesn't seem to be working.

"Hey, McGee!" Abby likes Tim. You think they've dated a few times, but haven't managed to verify the suspicion yet. But he's a little too normal and stable and sweet for her, so Tim remains Tony's follower and not Abby's boy, which you think you're grateful for.

"H- hi, Abby. Good evening, sir," he adds to you, and you glare at him over the potatoes.

"Don't call me 'sir'."

"Yessir. I mean, Mr Gibbs. I mean –"

Tony snickers, so you put down your knife and take the two steps necessary to smack him again. "Head down!"

He hisses but doesn't whimper, so you know you hit a little too hard. You make a mental note to counter it later with a 'good work', and go back to the vegetables.

"Oh, is that your report?" McGee asks, leaning over Tony's shoulder to see. "Yeah, I finished mine a few hours ago."

"Didjya, McGee?" Tony snaps. "Footnotes and all, huh?"

"Yup. Cross-referenced and hyperlinked it too – it's an electronic finish, remember."

Tony's head jerks just slightly, but Abby recovers fast. "Don't worry, Tony. You just have to do the writing – I'll do the typing for you, okay?"

He glances at her. "Thanks, Abs."

"I'm back!" The shout coincides with the slamming of the front door, but you don't look up as Kate strides in, Ziva in tow. You know Kate is the main reason Tim isn't having much effect on Tony, and you keep meaning to have a word with her, but that would probably count as outside interference and only make things worse when you can't see them. She greets Tim with the special smile she saves just for him (you think she still uses it because he hasn't noticed it's patronising) and leans over Tony's other shoulder. "Are you really still working on this? Weren't you supposed to have it done like, an hour ago?"

"Two, Katie, thank you," he snarls, and she ruffles his hair before moving to join you in the kitchen. Tony's attention immediately switches to Ziva, who smiles the predator smile she keeps especially for _him_.

"Hello, Tony," she purrs, and he jumps out of his chair so fast that Tim almost goes flying, before Tony slides in behind Abby with what could have been charming grace if not for the first ungainly movement.

"Hey there, Ziva."

She's the new girl in town, and you know exactly why Kate brings her around all the time. Tony doesn't know what to do with women that are immune to his charm but don't think he's immature. He can't bend Ziva to his side, or laugh at her with his own brand of ironic, sadistic humour, because no matter what he does, she can beat him at the game.

"So, Tony," She rolls his name off her tongue, sidling up until they are only inches apart. He is much taller than her, but somehow looking down at her makes him seem lanky and uncomfortable. She has so much deadly grace that his innate style fails him. "How is it hanging?"

With any other woman, Tony could easily turn that to his advantage and fluster her. But Ziva is more sexual than any creature you know, particularly when teasing him. Tony knows this, and so his charm fails him, leaving him with just a breathless laugh and a half-formed word on his lips before she suddenly continues.

"You seem ruffled. Did you only just get out of bed?" she asks, and moves that inch closer that makes them touch. He swallows and shuffles back, but she just follows him until he bumps into Abby.

You know why Abby still doesn't like her much. Tony is her big brother, but he's always getting himself hurt, both physically and emotionally. You can't do much to stop him without stunting his growth, Kate never thinks it will happen again, Tim is too scared of Tony's temper and Ziva is usually the one getting him into trouble. Abby seems to have taken it upon herself to protect him, and so she and Ziva often have issues. She's glaring at her now, even while the other two grin at the way Tony has faltered.

There is a part of you that knows you should do something. Ziva keeps pushing at Tony; pushing him into the corners he's made with lies. But you can't stop her. She's too precious to hurt. Already too fragile. You feel like you owe her something priceless. Tony is irreplaceable (not that you would ever tell him that), so there is a part of you that thinks giving him to her will even the score. So, no matter what she does, you won't stop her.

"I've got work to do," Tony says finally, lamely, and he ignores Tim and Kate's grins as he settles back down over his reports.

"So, Gibbs," Ziva says, turning to face you, instead. "Are Ducky and Palmer coming for dinner?"

You look up at her absently. Ducky is an uncle to you, and a grandfather to the others in the room. That almost makes Jimmy Palmer a cousin, which is probably why Tony only tortures him indirectly. He's no threat to their balance, but still close enough to be messed with. When they come to dinner, there will always be more talk, more smiles, and fewer lies.

"Yeah," you say, and smile at her. "Are you two staying, too?"

"Only if you don't mind," Tim says quickly.

"Of course we don't mind!" cries Abby. "You're always welcome in our family!"

"What about me?" Ziva asks, and Kate's smile is dark.

"Of course. I can't exist without you."

The dinner cooks and talk turns to chatter while Tony keeps working with the others constantly correcting him. You think they might be slowing him down, but can't see a good reason to stop them until dinner is ready.

"Tony, clear up!"

"Sure thing, Dad."

The last word hits you, and you stop collecting plates from the cupboard. You pause and look around at your three children and their two friends. Those two aren't your kids and probably never will be, but you're happy to take care of them until they can take care of themselves. They mean a lot to you.

Of your three, stupid children, Abby is probably your favourite, if only because you can lavish attention on her and not be told to go away. Despite that, you feel the most for Kate. It's a complex set of emotions: pride and exasperation mixed with support and pain. She's always striving so hard to succeed, to leave your side, but you can't let her go. Not yet. You're proudest of Tony, because you know he's fractured and hopeless and you know you can't really fix him, but he works hard and sometimes even comes out on top.

You think Shannon is proud of them, too.

When you look up again, Tony has separated from the group, and is working through a pile of reports on the window seat. Ziva and McGee are watching him with dark smiles, and Abby is close by your side, next to Kate.

"Director Sheppard said that when Mr Gibbs did that report, he did it twice as well in half the time," McGee tells Tony. "I think she's hoping you'll ask him for help with it."

"He can do it on his own," you snap, and then look down at the dinner you have spread out on the table: minds and hearts covered in too much blood. Ziva opens a bottle and Kate holds a glass to pour their tears into.

"Drink," says Ziva. "Eat. Be merry."

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" Kate asks, angry and smiling. "What's wrong? Tony can bleed some more if that'll make it go down easier…"

Abby and Tim are laughing as they trade information, stories and dreams, carving them out with the rusty knife you gave them. Ziva is leaning against your shoulder, staring between you and the plate, because she can't understand why you won't eat. You pick up a fork, but can't bring yourself to eat until the blood stops pouring.

"I can't keep doing this," says Tony.

"You don't quit until I say you can," you tell him, but the only answer you get is an angry laugh.

"Why, because you see something I don't?" he yells. "You won't even look at what you're doing!"

Kate flinches once, a single blink the only real movement before she suddenly crumples to the ground. The shift makes you look down, and a pool of blood spreads out from her hair, nowhere near your plate. You look down at it, then over at Ziva, who just furrows her brow in question.

"Why won't you…?"

Tony's hand drips with something dark and red and you don't want to look at it as he slams it down beside your food. "Look at what you're doing, Dad. Look at it!"

Your gaze moves up his arm (not blood, he's not dead, it's not blood) to his chest (his heart's still _there_, it's fixable yet) and up to his blue, frozen lips (it's just the light, it has to be the light) before reaching his eyes. Haunted eyes. Wide eyes. Eyes that won't meet your gaze. You shift your Sig (bad guys use guns, you use a _Sig_) and aim it between his eyes, keeping it strong and steady and it's not really a threat. You know it's not a threat.

"Look at me."

And he does. And those blue, frozen lips curl up in the most frightening smile you've ever seen. "Go ahead, punk," he murmurs, and it's so perfect that it's not an impression any more. "Make my day."

The gunshot is so loud that you jerk up to sitting, and you spend a few seconds staring at nothing as your breathing and pulse slow. It's almost half a minute before you realise what it really was, and pull your phone up to your ear. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Hey, Boss," Tony's voice is tired and distracted. He's probably getting dressed while he calls everyone. "Dispatch called. We got a case down in Little Creek – some guy in dress whites hung from a tree by his shoelaces."

"You and the others get the van – I'll call Ducky and meet you there."

"On it."

You hang up the phone, and leave the dream for the nightmare instead.

* * *

_Mm… no excuses. Comments?_


End file.
